


Cold, Mute and Dark

by etherealangel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Cutting, Depression, Heartbreak, Louis Dies, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, One-Sided Relationship, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Louis, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, hehehehehe, i didn't say that he did, larry stylinson - Freeform, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4255296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealangel/pseuds/etherealangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry breaks louis and louis really can't take more weight on his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold, Mute and Dark

**Author's Note:**

> this is very triggering and sad so please don't read if you're triggered by suicide/cutting/mentions of self harm.  
> idk if i should make a second part to this where it all turns out happy but this is a drabble that i've had for so long and i decided to publish it bc i haven't for ages.
> 
> tumblr: watchthewavesrock.tumblr.com  
> instagram (personal): jordan.almighty

The shower must have been cold as it ran, heavy drops echoing hollowly through the empty shower and the bathroom. It couldn’t have been as cold as the blade that now lay beside the boy that was leaning against the blindingly white tiles of the wall, a tired smile on his lips as he stared forward towards the mirror. The black spots in his vision did not cease when he blinked every so often, his stomach turning uncomfortably as it attempted to not be overwhelmed by the chemical compound of pills that had been lazily shoved down into his body.

Louis wasn’t even sure why he smiling. Maybe it was the thought of hey; maybe he wasn’t going to be in pain anymore. Maybe everything could finally end and he would just be free from the burden on his shoulders that had finally come crashing down on him after the years of building. It only took another feather for it to.

He thought that he had found the person who could save him, the one who could make his darkness turn to light and he might pull through. Louis wanted to pull through and he would have if he had just a few more days of that illusion of happiness that had avoided for him so long, and now, he knew why. He didn’t think that it would come back to bite him so quickly and dissipate as quickly as steam does – as soon as it had finally curled in the air and then fades into nothing.

The small fingers of the boy could barely press the number into the keys of his phone, each key creating an audible beep that was barely able to go above the pattering of the shower stream. When he had finally managed to pull his shaking hand up towards his head and press the device to his ear, his smile grew when it went straight to voicemail.

_“Hey, you’ve reached Harry Styles. I’ll call you back, please leave a message after the beep!”_

It reminded him of the day when he first decided to call Harry; the afternoon after he had somehow received his number from the boy, and he didn’t know how he even managed to appeal to him. Louis saw himself as the person he was; the depressed kid in the back of the class that secretly slits his wrists each evening who was a victim of his own thoughts.

But, he did, and after the meeting at the coffee shop down the road, it all escalated from there. Within two months, Harry was asking for a real, romantic date. Louis had felt happy for the first time in years. He almost didn’t want to hurt himself, and after the other boy had found out, he felt as if he was slowly being glued together. Haphazardly, but he was still being slowly mended.

_“Lou? Louis, listen. I, erm, I know it’s really early, but I was wondering if we could go out again? But, this time, maybe… Maybe as a couple? Yeah, call me back, please. It’s okay if you say no, but – just, call me back. Thanks.”_

And then he tried to surprise Harry, one day. He wanted to show him that, even after seven months, Louis was a good boyfriend. It must have been the wrong day, and maybe Louis should have just listened and believed him when Harry said that he was having people over and he was busy.

He met that one when he opened the door and walked into the living room.

Somehow, after fleeing from the house and sputters of “it’s not what you think it is,”, Louis found himself back at home with a blade in his wrist and the tears back down his cheeks. He was cutting over the scars that he thought would seal forever, that he might have found the glue for his torn pages. He opened up his old wounds and cried until his head was aching and the blood was drying where it was smeared over his skin.

He then found himself with an angry Harry on the phone, screaming and shouting and blaming _Louis_ for the fact that he cheated.

_“You’re a piece of shit, Louis – why don’t you just kill yourself, this time?”_

Louis didn’t understand anymore. He just wanted to get out of the complications and the confusions and he just wanted to _leave._ So, he was. He was leaving and he didn’t care, even as he heard the shout of his mum on the bottom floor, soon to find the note that he had scrawled over a piece of crumpled paper on the fridge.

“You do know that you can push someone too far, right?” Louis spoke into the speaker, feeling the warmth of a tear run over his heated cheeks; the black shape appearing in his vision expanding and blotching the mirror. He looked like a mess, beautiful; red standing out against the tan of his skin, dark drops on the back of the phone where his fingers shook, blue eyes watery and dull, as they had been for the years that he couldn’t count.

“Especially when you know that they’re already being pushed over the line. I’m going to listen to you; listen to your lying mouth and the words that I thought actually meant something.” There was barely any vision of the mirror left; the blade’s reflection and the way the drips falling onto the sweater he wore darkened the grey. Louis saw bright green eyes; he could feel the fingers being pushed through his fringe as he closed his eyes.

“I thought that you actually cared, Harry.” The boy whispered, head dropping back against the tiled wall, “You were actually healing me. I thought that maybe you could seal my cuts and wounds and just make me happy again. You did, actually. You made me _so_ happy, you made me feel like I was on top of the world when he looked at you and thought that yeah, you’re mine.”

Louis heard feet hitting stairs, and his head was spinning, his stomach ceasing its turns and twists. He ignored it, instead listening to the shower and the silence on the other line.

“You don’t tell someone to kill themselves, you know,” he spoke softly, “especially when you know they want to. How do you blame me for your cheating, anyway? But, yeah, I’m listening to you. I’ve wanted to end it for a while, actually,” a humourless laugh left the small lad’s lips, “you’ve just pushed me far enough and, yeah, I’m doing it. I don’t care anymore. Just know that I did love you, and you did make me happy, and now you did push me too far. It was all you.”

Louis’ hand then dropped down and he pressed his thumb to the red button, ending it. He ended the call just as he heard the banging on the door, just as he felt himself swirling into the darkness of the abyss that he couldn’t manage to jump over. Instead, he just smiled softly to himself as he sank down into the darkness; the warmth of his cheeks fading until the world was cold. Cold, mute, and dark. 


End file.
